


Spock's Fantasies

by nix_this



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Damn Scotty's Hot, F/M, Humor, M/M, Smut, Spock's One Dirty Vulcan, Sulu's Got A Big Sword
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nix_this/pseuds/nix_this
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was: <em> I would like, please, fic where Spock has graphic fantasies about other members of the crew. All the other members of the crew, but not at the same time. The smuttier the better. Don't forget Scotty, plz </em></p><p>I, uh, didn't forget Scotty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spock's Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Oh boy, where do I even begin? Het, slash, bondage, purple prose, swearing, my one way ticket to hell...?

_ **McCoy**_

 

The Doctor would be a challenge, he's aware.

Irrational and illogical prejudice against his alien nature would be difficult to overcome but Spock is a cunning adversary and a competent strategist. There's a tension between them that could be easily coaxed into passion with the timely application of pressure and presence.

It is easy to envision the altercation taking place in sickbay, the hum of equipment and medicinal scent have become completely intertwined with his impressions of McCoy. As much a part of the man as the gruff accent that slips when Jim is injured or the bitter twist of his mouth as it spouts off senseless idioms and colloquial descriptors of Spock's inhuman traits.

He would approach from behind, in a guarded moment during one of their more heated discussions. The momentum would carry their bodies forward until his heat was flexing against the Doctor, pinning him to the wall with his superior strength. McCoy would struggle at first, profanity pouring from that mouth, those lips, in waves until Spock is left with no choice but to press his lips against the Doctor's, cutting off his air and using his tongue to lick the man clean.

Even his breath, choked off in surprise would carry the weight of his foul language and Spock would press forward, spinning him carefully, slowly, never giving the other man a chance to catch his breath and resume his verbal barrage until finally he would hit a point, just so, with his hand tracing the delicate line where his neck meets his jaw, and McCoy's breathing would hitch and Spock's name would exhale into his mouth.

The older man would jerk perhaps, a spasm of tension before melting completely against him. From there it would be an easy transition to a bio bed or a smooth slide to the pristine floor before logic departed and their antagonism shifted into a purely physical realm of twisting and panting and entangled limbs. He can picture the coupling as rough and hurried, any moments his lips and tongue and teeth are away from McCoy's will have the air charged with cursing and gritted out orders.

_Fuck, Spock. You beautiful bastard. Fuck yes, there _ _ **there ** _ _Fuck _

Those arms, sinewy and strong for a human would flail and grasp and clutch, the nervous movements spasmodic over his back and neck and gripping his shoulders to leave green smudges of bruises as he takes the straining cock into his hot mouth, earning him another round of the Doctor's colourful vocabulary. The taste would be clean, if slightly sour, and his lips will quirk upwards slightly in satisfaction as McCoy's eyes glaze over and his head thunks softly against the bulkhead.

“Finally”, he will say as he moves to leave. "Finally I have rendered you speechless."

* * *

  


_ **Sulu**_

He knows little about the pilot beyond his competence, affection for the sword and his unfortunate tendency to be with Kirk when the Captain's plans go awry.

There is a fire in the young man, easily hidden by the almost Vulcan control he exerts over his facial expressions and Spock encounters difficulty imagining how he could manoeuvre him into a sexually charged encounter.

Perhaps during a training session with ragged gasps of air panted between them from across the mat, Sulu could be coaxed into attempting a take down. Perhaps Spock would let the agile man topple him and twist and pull until their hips collided. A flare of heat would flit across Sulu's face before control was reestablished but not before he was able to see and recognize the burst of desire. A stalled moment, perhaps of fear and embarrassment, before his own voice called out the privacy lock code and his hand snakes his way under the pilot's uwagi to stroke the cool taut stomach before settling on the ties of the zubon. An eyebrow quirk would suffice for permission to continue, acknowledged with a small smile from Sulu and a subtle relaxation settling his weight loosely over Spock's hips. Working the ties free with his fingers would send frissons of delicious pleasure throughout his body and the pilot's wriggling would have to be halted with the firm pressure of his other hand.

Sulu would not be content to be passive, however. Spock would allow himself to be jerked into sitting, his hand at the hips moved now to support their weight and the tight curve of Sulu's buttocks shifting, rubbing, slightly back as the lean thighs moved up to support him, bracketing Spock between them with a slight squeeze. The intensity of Sulu's gaze would grow as the pilot drew closer breaths mingling cool and heated and sparking with desire before that cool moist mouth descended on him and a strong wet tongue stroked its way inside.

He imagines them both silent and focused on achieving mutual pleasure, only a few harsh pants and gasps punctuating the air as training uniforms are efficiently dispatched and naked yellow and green tinted flesh is explored and skimmed and exploited in an effort to get the other to be the first to break the silence. Would his strong grip on the slender penis elicit the first groan or would Sulu's even, white teeth clamping down on the meat of the flesh between his neck and shoulder win out? Perhaps neither.

Perhaps, as his vision heats and his nostrils fill with the musky scent of sweat and man, it is the first confident push into him that makes Spock shatter the quiet with a small moan.

* * *

  


_ **Scotty**_

The seduction of the bizarre new chief engineer would be straightforward and easy. Spock imagines a sandwich, a towel and a word of appreciation for the latest adjustments to the warp core would accomplish half the task.

Montgomery Scott is a man who lives life entirely in the current moment and that dedication to the present would result in a highly satisfying encounter. That fascinating and turbulent mind would focus entirely on the mysteries of his Vulcan form, experimenting with all possible combinations of lips and teeth and hands on flesh and bone in order to achieve the best possible outcome.

"Ah laddie, what's this now?" he would hear as those clever hands discovered the sensitive patch of skin over his hip bone. A feather light touch followed by a firmer stroke followed by the gentle scrape of teeth as Spock struggles to control the unsteady upwards jerking of his hips.

Those quick confident hands would continue on their scouting mission until Spock lay exposed, every nerve tingling and aware. Fingertips would suddenly morph into knuckles and the varied pressures on his skin would surge Spock forward and up until Scotty was braced against the cool metal panels with enough force to leave the light imprint of rivets on his flesh. A breathless laugh would sound out and Scotty's soft accent would huff into his ear, "That's it, lad. Show me what ye kin do."

And Scotty would take with all the abandon that he gave, legs clamping around Spock's waist pulling and straining and urging him on. The laughter would continue, wild and free until it choked into gasps and both men crumpled to the ground buzzing with electricity in the aftermath of completion.

After they cleaned themselves off, it's easy to imagine Scotty flashing him a bright smile and offering him a drink. Spock believes that he is likely to accept.

* * *

_ **Uhura** _

  
Lt Uhura has the kind of skin that demands exploration, smooth and dark and warm enough to minimize the shock of heat differential when he runs his hands over it. However the blue highlights from the console also increase her appeal tremendously and he is curious what she would feel like under ice.  
He would approach her with that question in mind. Undressing her slowly, each shadow revealed a section at a time, he would lay her under the blue lights of the observation deck and let the light transform the glow of her skin into something cool and remote.

He would light his hands along body with ghostly touches, letting the air and his tracing fingers sensitize that glorious skin. Her nipples would pucker and gooseflesh would form over her arms and breasts and it was then that he would bring out the bowl of ice he had carefully concealed. Her eyes would be dark and unfathomable as he suppresses the shudder from the contact of the ice on his sensitive fingers . The thrum of the ship echoing with his heartbeat in his ears would make her first gasp as the ice strokes the shallow of her clavicle and down between her breasts before settling in her navel. Those eyes would flutter shut and her graceful torso would arch into him as his hot tongue retraces that path, suckling lightly to drink from her flesh. Curling his tongue into her belly button, Spock would trace a warm wet path over her nipples, sucking and nibbling, pressing firm when Nyota quivers.

Another cube of ice, this one half melted and dripping cold over her hips and thighs, Spock would be careful to touch each of these points with his hot mouth before cradling his head on her hips to watch his own hand run a smooth cold line over Nyota's inner thigh, to the crease between her outer lips. A soft gasp behind her and her fingers begin threading in his hair and her hips twitch upward.

“Ah-- ah _please Spock_” Her softly broken plea would shift his gaze up to her face where her eyes would be glistening, appearing almost entirely black with need.

“Yes,” he would breathe, making certain to direct the warm air to the cool puddle of water gathering at the base of her need. Leaning in, he would first lave gently – letting the shock of his hot mouth on cold flesh provide the first stimulation. She would sigh and relax into the rhythm of his tongue, laving lightly up and down before dipping deeper in to lick and suck the folds of her labia, lightly scraping up with his teeth. Leaning forward with an experimental lick to her clitoris, he would bring another small piece of ice and deposit it into his mouth. He would suck the tiny organ gently, rolling it between his lips and tongue to alternate contact with the shock of the cold and the soothing heat. Her gasps would deepen into a light keening; he would tighten his hands as her hips began thrusting into his mouth. Holding her captive to his gentle torture, he would increase the intensity and speed of his flicking tongue until her body stiffened and her cries pealed out into the observation deck. He would continue to lick softly until she sagged in his grasp.

Her eyes would now be wide and unfocused as he licked his way up to her neck, pauses necessary to place gentle bites at her shoulder and her jaw. Her lips would be parted and damp with passion as he leans up to press their mouths together, mingling the flavours of her musk with their breath. He would slide into her, always such a delicious shock to sink into cool moisture and Spock would turn them on their sides so his hands could continue to explore and stimulate before shuddering into her under the blue lights.

* * *

_ **Kirk** _

  
Spock was aware that he was not the only being that desired to see Kirk in chains. Indeed, it was perhaps the most common fantasy among the crew of the Enterprise; the idea of that implacable will subjugated and limber form broken to passion held universal appeal. The impression of that commanding voice faltering on choked off cries of pleasure and pain was often all that was required to achieve orgasm.

The only difficulty Spock encountered with his imaginings was the decision between hanging his Captain from the ceiling to enable taking him against the wall or securing him to the bed to employ gentler means of dominance.

Tonight the bed held the stronger appeal and he began to stroke himself to the scene unfolding in his mind.

Kirk's arms would be pinned over his head and his legs splayed and secured to posts of the Captain's bed with strips of supple leather. His body stretched taut, hard muscles would quiver against the strain of his bonds. Those improbable blue eyes would maintain their challenging directness and the weight of that regard would drive Spock to discover all means of clouding their purpose and flaring the gaze into blind acceptance of pleasure.

No stranger to pain, it would not be the scraping of Spock's teeth at his throat or the hard rake of nails down his chest that would force the moans and sighs and gasps. Spock served himself with these actions, testing the flavours and textures of smooth skin sheened with sweat. The hard brutal bites, placed with calculated force along meat and bone to raise welts, could elicit a seething gasp but would not be the action that deprived Kirk of his tightly held control. A gentle pressing of his mouth on each swelling mark would earn Spock a soft sigh, but not deliver the complete supplication that he needed.

It would be afterwards, when he slipped between the long legs and hitched the hips to receive him that he would receive his reward. The complete shattering of Kirk's control would come, not with each powerful thrust and withdrawal, but with a vibrating growl at his ear.

“Jim. You are mine tonight.”

A snap of the eyes to his. The blue would disappear under blown pupils as Kirk measured his regard and accepted the weight of the promise behind his eyes and words. The beauty of the body bowing beneath his, susceptible to each change in pressure, pressing eagerly into every touch was what Spock desired above all else. Driving into the tight welcome of Kirk's ass, each successful brush against his prostate would earn Spock the broken cries and gasping breaths he sought. When Kirk was finally reduced to begging, the litany of “_Oh God, please Spock. Please_” in a sobbing voice would fall so sweetly into his ears and crack with each surge. It would be then that Spock reached his hand between their bodies and grasped the twitching cock. He would grind his hips down and hold Kirk immobile with his weight as he worked the other man into a twisting frenzy with his tightfisted strokes. Kirk would come with Spock's name torn from his throat in a scream and bucking wildly, wantonly back onto hot Vulcan skin.

After the shudders transformed the man from straining steel to supple silk, Spock would fill him with his release and come to rest with his head bowed onto the heaving chest, listening closely to the race of the human heart.


End file.
